The Bachelor's Bride (The Thompsons of Locust Street #1) - Holly Bush Page 0,61

were far away, noting his other two sisters. Her sister moved forward, shaking his mother’s hand. He went directly to Elspeth, and they were alone in a crowded room.

He was more sorry than he could say that he could not spend every minute of the evening with her. He had some social obligations on behalf of his family, but mostly he would be working with Graham, circulating in the hallways, checking accesses to storage rooms and servants’ quarters since they would definitely be deserted this evening. But he would not deny himself these first few minutes that he’d been anticipating for so long.

“You look beautiful,” he said and watched a blush climb her neck and cheeks.

“You look very handsome,” she whispered. She cleared her throat and spoke again. “Very handsome.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you think so.” Alexander heard a discreet cough behind Elspeth and looked around. “We should move. We don’t want to hold up Mother’s receiving line.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Elspeth said and took the arm he held out. “I see Kirsty has already found your sister.”

Alexander heard some high-pitched giggles and saw his sister and Kirsty Thompson among a group of Annabelle’s friends. He turned to Elspeth. “Would you like some wine or champagne?”

“Actually, just some lemonade or water would suit me to start with. Maybe some wine with dinner,” she said.

“Lemonade it is.”

They walked through the double doors into a large anteroom off the ballroom where servants were pouring wine for guests. Tables ringed the room, and a large serpentine one stood at the center with a massive ice carving as the centerpiece. Tables were filled with shelled oysters, lobster tails, sliced lamb, petits fours, lemon tarts, chocolates and raspberries, and every kind of cake and sweet to be had. Staff were serving guests, many seated at the small tables scattered about the room.

It was everything Elspeth had ever imagined about a fancy ball and more. It was as if she were in a fairy story with a handsome prince. She could hear an orchestra tuning their instruments in the next room and turned to Alexander.

“This is all so very beautiful. The flowers, the food, the guests. No wonder your mother’s invitations are so sought after.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Just from all the guests in line as we waited to come inside.”

“There really is only one guest I’m concerned about.”

“And who might that be?” she asked, smiling.

“Are you aiming for a compliment, Miss Thompson?” He grinned. “May I get you a plate with your lemonade?”

“No, thank you.” She took his arm to walk to the staff serving beverages.

There was something very special about Alexander Pendergast, and the looks she was getting from others as she walked, her arm entwined with his, confirmed that opinion. Men, young and old, nodded as he passed and swept a look to her. The women glanced discreetly from behind fans and gloved hands. A tall man standing in the doorway raised a hand, signaling to Alexander. He turned to her.

“Duty calls. I must see to what that gentleman needs. May I take you to your brothers and your aunt, or maybe your sister and mine?”

Alexander smiled but still managed to look intense and serious. She wondered what exactly that duty would entail, but it was early in the evening and he was a host here, as the son of the family, and there were hundreds of guests to attend to. She mustn’t be greedy.

“My brothers, yes, please.”

“What is it, Graham?”

“Please follow me, Mr. Pendergast. We need your help.”

Alexander followed his family’s head of security down a long hallway and turned to the door of a sitting room that was rarely used. He could not imagine what or who was behind the door, and it took him a moment to acclimate himself when he stepped inside.

“Mrs. Schmitt?” he asked as he walked farther into the room. She was seated on the end of a sofa, sniffling, and one of Graham’s men stood near her. When Alexander turned, he noticed there was another man stationed at the door. “Graham?”

“I had nothing to do with it!” Mrs. Schmitt said. “You must tell them, Alexander.”

“Nothing to do with what?” He glanced at Graham, who nodded to the man standing near her.

“Mr. Bamblebit?” Graham said.

“I was checking the room with all the flowers on the wall coverings that leads out to the patio with the roses.”

“The Garden Salon,” Alexander interrupted.

“Yes, sir. That is what your father called it when we were discussing this evening. Anyway, I was